Things the Normandy Crew Isn't Allowed To Do: Part One
by katrinahood
Summary: A list of things the various Normandy crew members are banned from doing has been created. This is the first part of the stories behind the additions to this list. Based on Witchweather's list.
1. Shepard the Wanna-Be Nudist

_Shepard may not be naked at C-Sec Headquarters. Ever again._

* * *

Commander Bailey sat at his new temporary C-Sec office in C-Sec Headquarters, doing all the things a C-Sec officer does, like making sure that someone who's alive is not considered dead. Footsteps began to approach him. The minute they stopped, he looked up to find their source. And lo and behold, Commander Katrina Shepard stood there with arms akimbo, seemingly unaware or uncaring that the only thing she was wearing was her skin.

"Shepard, what the hell are you doing?" Bailey rubbed his temples.

"Waltzing around in my birthday suit, what else?" Shepard shrugged.

"Alright, follow-up question, why the hell are you naked?" he crossed his arms.

"My clothes were dirty, duh," she answered.

"All of them?" he scowled.

"Nah, just my most favorite set," she scratched her nose.

"So, why don't you wear your second favorite set of clothes?"

"Didn't feel like it, also felt like trying something new."

"How is this new thing you're trying turning out?"

"People are starting to notice. Either that, or they just now realized that I have a tattoo of a middle finger on both my ass cheeks," she smirked and slapped the locations of her tattoos.

"Mommy, what's that on her butt?" a little turian boy pointed at Shepard.

"Don't stare or point, that's just a tattoo," his mother answered.

"Shepard—" Bailey said.

"Let me guess, I need to put on some clothes, otherwise, parents are gonna complain because my ass is flipping them off."

"Not exactly what I was going to request, but that is the gist of it."

"Alright, I'll wear my second favorite set of clothes."

"And?"

"And I'll never go around naked here again." Shepard scuffed off back to the Normandy. Bailey returned to his work and began to ponder. Just what will the first human Spectre do next, annoy the hell out of the Council?


	2. Operation Irritate the Councilors

" _Oops" is not an appropriate response when asked to report._

" _Operation Irritate the Hell Out of the Councilors" is not an official mission, no matter what Garrus or Shepard have said._

* * *

"Commander, the Council wants to speak with you. It's something about your latest report," Joker reported.

"Patch them through, Joker," Shepard ordered.

"Setting up link now," Joker said, "By the way, are you planning on hanging up on them?"

"Nope, I'm planning something better," Shepard smirked. The holographic projections of the asari, turian, and salarian councilors fizzled into view.

"Shepard, we must discuss your latest report to us," said Tevos.

"Does it have anything to do with how I screwed up my last mission?" Shepard asked.

"Yes—no. I mean, yes, you did screw up your last mission, but that's not why we're here," Valern spoke at less than one-fifths of Mordin's approximate speaking speed at fifteen words a second.

"So, what is this about my latest report?"

"You have to put more detail into it than just 'oops'," Sparatus did his air quotes thing on the last word in his sentence.

"Let me think about that," Shepard pretend-pondered, "Nah."

"In case it hasn't been made clear, 'oops' isn't adequate enough for a report," Tevos did not do the same air quotes thing as Sparatus.

"Oh, yes it is," Shepard grinned and nodded.

"Shepard, trust us when we say it isn't," said Valern. Shepard tried her damndest not to smirk as she activated her omnitool.

"'Oops, exclamation, informal. Used to show recognition of a mistake or minor accident, often as part of an apology'," Shepard read the first result of her latest extranet search off of her orange almost-all-purpose instrument.

"What does that have to do with anything?" asked Sparatus.

"Oh, it has everything to do with everything," Shepard displayed all of her top front teeth in her grin as she wiggled her eyebrows up and down every other word.

"Again, you are being vague just for the sake of being vague," Tevos rested her palm on her face.

"Actually, when you bring the definition of 'oops' that I just read into consideration, you'll find that it is indeed adequate enough for my last report," Shepard emphasized almost every other word.

"It—it really doesn't," Valern responded.

"Oh, but it does," Shepard continued her random-word-emphasizing act, "For you see, the definition of 'oops' helps bring a description to how my last mission had gone."

"That isn't specific enough," Sparatus came quite close to literally saying those words through his teeth, "We need specifics about how your mission went."

"Is that really necessary?" Shepard questioned, "Does not 'oops' bring to mind the exact scenario in which that word would be appropriate to utter?"

"No, it's only providing vague images," Tevos answered, "And will you stop speaking like a faux intellectual for just a few moments?"

"Not until Spartacus here can properly describe these 'vague images' that 'oops' creates in his mind." Shepard motioned to the turian councilor.

"It's 'Sparatus', and these vague images range for fires set everywhere in a small town to an entire planet being turned into a nuclear wasteland," Sparatus responded.

"Wait, nuclear wasteland is what comes to mind when you read the word 'oops'?" Valern asked Sparatus.

"Councilors, it is quite clear that Shepard does not take this conversation seriously," Tevos turned to Valern and Sparatus.

"You're right, we would accomplish just as much talking to a varren," Valern replied.

"Ah, yes, the varren," Shepard began to monologue, "the animal native to Tuchunka that a human would consider analogous to a—"

"This conversation is over," Tevos disconnected their communications. Valern's, Sparatus', and her holographic projections fizzled into oblivion.

"Damn, the Council hung up on you?" Joker asked, "Never saw that coming!"

"Told you I had something better planned." Shepard patted the air where Joker would have been had he decided to leave his station.

"So, what now, Commander?"

"Get me Admiral Hackett," Shepard commanded.

"Getting him—" Joker left his sentence hanging as the blue holographic projection of the admiral fizzled into view.

"Yes, Commander?" he asked.

"Happy to report that 'Operation Irritate the Hell Out of the Councilors' is a success!" Shepard smiled.

"I…didn't assign you any missions with that name." Hackett lifted his hat to scratch his scalp.

"Of course you didn't," said Shepard, "It was all done without you having to assign it."

"I wouldn't have—"

"Now that's what would be called 'a job well done'," Shepard interrupted, "Shepard out!" It was Hackett's holographic projection's turn to be fizzled into oblivion. Shepard walked out of the communications room and bumped into Garrus.

"Woah, what are you up to, Garrus?" she asked.

"A…little mission of my own." It was hard to tell with turians, but Shepard swore that Garrus' mouth formed a little smirk.

"Really?" Shepard's tone of voice took a turn for the slightly higher than usual, "Might I ask the name of this little mission?"

"Oh, it's something I like to call 'Operation Irritate the Hell Out of the Councilors'." Shepard scowled at his choice of name. "…2.0."

"Now that's more like it!" Shepard's scowl turned into a smile, "Just remember to let me know how that goes, honey."

"Only if you tell me the outcome of your mission, sweetie." Garrus placed his hand on her left shoulder.

"Will do." Shepard placed her hand on Garrus'. Once their little display of affection ceased, Shepard resumed her walk toward her captain's cabin. Ah, yes, the human-turian couple that irritates councilors together stays together. Well, she and Garrus didn't irritate the Council together, but that is beside the point.


	3. Garrus, Shepard, No

_Shooting things off the Presidium is not allowed._

* * *

"So, ready for our little date?" Garrus set up ten effigies of the Cerberus troops they have encountered, Assault Troopers, Centurions, Nemeses, Phantoms, Guardians, the works, on a protective rail.

"Involving weapons?" Shepard prepped up her M-8 Avenger assault rifle, "Hell yeah!" She and Garrus backed away from the rail until the intrinsic details of the effigies blurred into a shape vaguely resembling a human. Garrus aimed his sniper rifle at the first Assault Trooper effigy and pulled the trigger. The bullet struck the effigy and knocked it down to Goddess knows where, hopefully nowhere near hitting someone's head.

"Okay, amateur, my turn." Shepard stepped up to Garrus' former position and positioned her assault rifle to aim just below the Centurion effigy's head.

"Still mad I won that little bottle shooting contest?" Garrus nudged Shepard with his elbow.

"Shut up, Garrus." Shepard smirked. Oh, if only he knew the truth. She fired at her effigy. The impact of the bullet knocked it out of her line of sight.

"Alright, move aside." Garrus moved to face the Nemesis effigy, "this is how a professional does it."

"Professional?" Shepard raised her eyebrows, "Oh honey, even the amateurest of amateurs is laughing at you."

"Consider yourself lucky I'm your boyfriend," Garrus grunted from the sniper rifle's kickback after he fired at the Nemesis effigy. Wherever it ended up, it didn't end up hitting something since no one yelled at them.

For the next couple of minutes, Shepard and Garrus took their turns firing the rest of the Cerberus effigies off of the rail. The last of the effigies stood there, a Dragoon with its whips equipped.

"And this is for constantly targeting me and not anyone else!" Garrus fired at the Dragoon effigy, but ended up missing it entirely, its whips taunting him.

"Yeah, missing the shot entirely." Shepard moved to the front of where the effigy stood, "That'll teach 'em."

"Damn it!" Garrus scuffled off to the side. Shepard aimed her assault rifle at the Dragoon effigy and fired at it. The force of the bullet knocked the effigy clean off of the rail and out of her line of sight.

"I'm Commander Katrina Shepard, and this is officially my favorite spot on the Citadel," Shepard pointed at the rail.

"Hey, where'd all this shit come from?!" someone yelled from way below the rail.

"And we're out," Shepard walked away from the rail.

"Think anyone's gonna find out about our little contest?" Garrus asked as he joined her.

"Nah, they'll just blame someone else," Shepard answered, "like Zaeed."

* * *

"Really, Shepard?" Shepard's latest email message read, "You really thought we'd believe that Zaeed was the one who made that mess on the Presidium?"

"Well, it was worth a shot," Shepard said to herself. "If I blamed Wrex or Grunt, maybe they'd believe it."


	4. Grunt, Wrex, No

" _Kill everything!" is not an effective diplomatic policy._

 _Neither are explosives._

* * *

Shepard, Miranda, Tali, Wrex, and Grunt sat around a conference table. Shepard really wanted to call it "the Round Table", but it was a rectangle, and "the Rectangle Table" didn't sound nearly as iconic.

"So, any questions before we start this little conference?" Shepard stood up. Tali raised her hand.

"Yes, Tali?"

"Why are only five of us here?" she asked.

"Because too many cooks will spoil the soup," Shepard answered, "and I'd like this soup to be as unspoiled as possible."

"So, what you're saying is, the fewer people who participate, the better?"

"That's the gist of it," Shepard answered, "Alright, on with our meeting. We've got ourselves a diplomatic crisis here. Since I always come up with the save-the-day plans, I think it's time that someone else gets a chance at them."

"Shepard, is that really the thing we should be concerned about right now?" Tali asked.

"Don't worry, Tali, they haven't started shooting each other yet." Shepard held her hands out. "So, anyone have anything to contribute?"

"Kill everything!" Grunt shouted.

"Grunt, that will only make the diplomatic crisis worse," Miranda placed her hand on her face.

"No, it'll solve it!" Grunt replied. "Because there won't be anybody left to create a diplomatic crisis!"

"No, Grunt, the point is to prevent a diplomatic crisis, not to obliterate everyone."

"You know," Wrex said, "I think Grunt's onto something."

"Keelah, you're not serious, are you?" Tali asked.

"Hold on, Tali," Shepard said, "Wrex has a good point. We just need to think about what Grunt said."

"I have," said Miranda, "and I've come to the conclusion that we'll only create a new diplomatic crisis with everyone else who happens to be close by."

"Hmm…" Shepard pondered out loud. "Sorry, Grunt, but your plan can't be Plan A." Grunt slumped down in his seat and crossed his arms.

"But it can be Plan If-Nothing-Else-Works-Let's-Try-This."

"Heh, heh, heh," Grunt grinned.

"Anyone else got anything?"

"I do!" Wrex shot up, "How about we use explosives?"

"Explosives, huh? I like the way you think." Shepard did the finger guns at Wrex.

"Wouldn't that just create a new diplomatic crisis?" Tali asked.

"Only if we set up the explosives far away enough to not cause collateral damage," Shepard answered, "but close enough to intimidate them."

"Why are you even considering the explosions in the first place, Commander?" Miranda asked.

"To liven things up from boring-as-shit talks," Shepard grinned.

"But-"

"Alright, time to place the decision up for a vote. All in favor of the explosives, say 'aye'."

"Aye!" Wrex, Grunt, and Shepard shot up.

"All opposed, say 'nay'."

"Nay," Miranda and Tali chimed in.

"The 'ayes' have it, and even if the 'ayes' didn't have it, my vote's the only vote that matters!" Shepard announced, "I declare this meeting, adjourned!"

* * *

Lying on her bed, Shepard read through all the various responses to Wrex's new diplomatic policy.

"Many of them are demanding for the head of whoever decided on that little policy placed on a pike, I'd like to see them try that with Wrex," Shepard thought.

"Welp, better get to checking some pet adoption agencies," Shepard said to herself. Her hamster squeaked from its cage.

"To give myself a little more company, that's why, Bert," she said to her pet.


	5. For Goddess' Sake, Shepard!

_The Normandy crew members may not adopt thresher maws, varren, or impressionable children._

 _No, not even if Primarch Victus believes it to be alright._

* * *

Shepard browsed through the forms for the adoption processes for thresher maws, varren, and children; human, turian, asari, salarian, krogan, etc.

Wait, there are forms for adoption processes for thresher maws? Children and varren, she understood, but thresher maws? She had no idea there was such a large demand for them that warranted the creation of an official adoption process.

She investigated a little further on one of the websites for adopting a thresher maw. Turned out, the creators of that website, and others like it, were krogan. That explained a lot.

Well, why not adopt a thresher maw? After all, her hamster could benefit from a companion, even one large enough to swallow an entire train whole.

So she searched for the least difficult form to fill out and filled it out to the best of her ability, fighting the temptation to make smart-ass comments along the way, such as "I have a motherfucking starship, so whatever you say is invalid."

She was almost finished with the form, all that was left was to get approval.

"To ensure that the thresher maw is given a safe and secure home," she read from the how-to-get approval section, "a third party must give their signature."

"Third party, huh?" Shepard asked, "Well I know just the person who fits that definition."

* * *

"So let me get this straight," Primarch Victus said, "you want to get my approval to adopt a thresher maw, an animal large enough to swallow a century's work of fleets whole?"

"Yep." Shepard nodded her head.

"An animal that drools acid."

"Mmm hmm."

"An animal that's an invasive species on any planet that's not Tuchanka."

"That's right."

"Do I sign on the dotted line?"

"Right there." Shepard pointed at said dotted line. Victus signed the paper and handed it to Shepard.

"Thanks to you, a thresher maw has found a new home!"

* * *

"No! Absolutely not! You're already frightening enough! You don't need a thresher maw to add to your frighteningness!" The rejection read.

"Awww…Bert really needed a companion." Shepard tossed the rejection into the trash. "Oh well, I dunno how well space hamsters and thresher maws get along."

Now that she had nothing else more productive to do, it was time for her to work on her special little presentation for the Council.


End file.
